A Poets Problem Poem by Prada gee

@times I contimplate death,
hear god speakin in everystep,
feel like I'm fadeing in every breath,
ma soul meaningless so what's next? ,
death waitin in the corner scheamin,
to catch me slippin, in da next step,
mine, dependin on da nine,
like da kats life
I pour my soul in everyline
and rhyme now was next?
been shot @ before aint nothin fun,
last words I heard from ma boy was run, before he got shot 3times twice in da chest one in da arm,
we wasent armed,
just trynna have fun
in a party, now to remenice on ma homie sippin bacardi,
but need something stronger,
cuz this aint gettin da job done,
they got the nerve to say I aint ghetto enough foe this street,
I'm quick on ma feet,
cheetas da speed,
keep one eye open in sleep,
I flow higher dan weed
cash in bout a gee in a week,
money is nothin to me,
but I want something flyer than that most of these kats put they life in cruisecontroll
I'm trynna controll da cruise